Wherever You May Go
by Jen Raasch1
Summary: Malcolm Reed wasn't always as professional as he is on Enterprise. That was because of one friend, during his first years in Star Fleet....******CHAPTER TWO NOW UP!********
1. Introduction

This story follows Malcolm Reed through his Starfleet Basic Training, his Officer Training, his first posting, and his career on Enterprise. Beware of a very long story ahead!  
  
I don't own any of these characters, with the exception of Mikayla. She's mine!  
  
  
  
Introduction  
  
There were only a few patrons in the seedy London bar. Music was playing in the background, but no one was really paying attention. Drinks sat empty at the tables, the floor was a mess. The remaining people were too drunk to notice or care about the status of the bar, though. They were lucky that they were still conscious.  
  
Malcolm Reed looked over to his companion and saw that she was mouthing the words to the archaic music. She was the only one who ever knew the words to the songs played. Then again, she was the only one in this bar who studied the 20th century so intently. The bar was modeled after something called a karaoke bar. Malcolm had never heard of it before, but as soon as she started taking him here, he read up. He even did her the favor of learning some songs. It was rare that he got up and sang, but if he got drunk enough, he could sing Love Shack with the best of them.  
  
Mikayla Forrest finally turned to Reed and squinted her eyes. "Why the hell is it so bright in here?"  
  
Reed turned slowly on his bar stool and looked out the window. "Prolly because it's so bright outside."  
  
Confusion was evident on the young woman's face. "Was it light when we came here?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Malcolm shrugged.  
  
The front door slammed open at that time, and a grizzled old man walked in. He took in the site of the place but didn't comment. Instead, he walked right up to Malcolm and Mikayla.  
  
"Don't you two have duty this morning?" he asked, his soft voice in contrast to his rough look.  
  
Mikayla was the one who responded. "That depends on what time it is."  
  
"It's about time for you to get going, Mike."  
  
"Ah bloody hell," Reed whispered, "duty."  
  
"Why don't you call in sick," the newcomer suggested.  
  
"Max, that is a fantastic idea!" Malcolm exclaimed, trying to get off the stool. Mikayla had to help him down.  
  
"Come on, Mallie, we'll go to my place."  
  
"Righty-o!"  
  
The two stumbled out into the bright light, both having a hard time keeping their balance. A cab was waiting; Max had known the two would still be there. Mikayla helped her friend in and then told the cabbie, "Starfleet Compound."  
  
The cabbie looked at the two funny, but didn't comment. They were both wearing Starfleet uniforms, and even though they were rumpled, he would do as she said. Within moments they arrived. The two paid the fee and headed for the main building.  
  
Starfleet hadn't been around for very long, but in the time that it had, humans had grown to respect the organization. Almost all the younger people were applying, their heads in the stars. The Vulcan's could do nothing to hold their dreams in check.  
  
This new organization had it's main headquarters in San Francisco, but has started putting up other locations all around the world. London was the center of the Fleet's weapon's development, and being weapons experts, Malcolm Reed and Mikayla Forrest had been assigned there right after training.  
  
They stumbled in, trying to keep their composure. People were glancing at them funny, but they paid no attention. They simply tried to get to the armory they were assigned to without passing out.  
  
An older looking man stormed out into the hall, looking one direction, and then looking towards the two. He growled in disgust and stomped up to them. "Do you know what time it is?"  
  
"Uh, no. A watch really doesn't go with this outfit," Forrest answered, trying to keep her giggles in check.  
  
"You two were suppose to be here an hour ago to run those diagnostics! Now get to work before I have your asses put on report!"  
  
Malcolm straightened up as best be could and saluted. "Yes sir! Right away sir!" He hiccupped and then started to laugh. Their commanding officer looked at them with a stern eye, but walked away.  
  
The young British man turned to his companion and asked, "How can one put an arse on report?"  
  
**  
  
Mikayla woke up to a splitting headache. She opened her eyes, but the bright florescent lights made things worse. She tried to sit up, but the room was spinning around her. Where am I? she thought. The last thing she remembered was walking into Max's Heaven in downtown London. Where was Malcolm? What had happened? All sorts of crazy scenarios ran through her mind.  
  
It was enough to get her to sit up. She sat there for a moment, fighting off the nausea. If this was a hospital, why wasn't one of the doctor's attending to her? Whatever had happened had left her head in an awful mess.  
  
She heard a groan from next to her and looked over slowly. Malcolm Reed was laying on a bed, much in the same condition she was. Worry washed over Mikayla's face. Moving far too fast for her head, but not really caring, she hurried over to where he friend laid. She was cut off, however, by the plexi-glass wall.  
  
Mikayla slowly turned around to get a better look at her surroundings. Suddenly, she knew where she and Malcolm were. Horror sunk into her stomach.  
  
They were in jail.  
  
"Malcolm?" she called out, hoping that the two cells were joined somehow and that he could hear her.  
  
"Ghrhg," came the reply.  
  
"Malcolm!" she said a bit louder.  
  
He sat up suddenly, startled that he didn't know where he was. He then promptly threw up. Mikayla sat and watched, knowing this was a ritual with him. If he didn't take something to leaven the effects of the alcohol, he would be throwing up the next day after. It appeared that their jailers hadn't given him anything.  
  
"Mikayla," he muttered, finally opening his eyes. "Where the hell are we?"  
  
"Jail," she said candidly. She was never one to sugar coat things.  
  
"JAIL?" he exclaimed, jumping off the bed.  
  
"Jail," she confirmed again, sitting on her bunk.  
  
"What…exactly did we do last night?" he asked, leaning his head up against the glass.  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
"This is all your fault," he muttered.  
  
Her head slowly came around. "My fault?"  
  
"Your fault. It was your idea to go out last night."  
  
"My idea? Who was the one who was sitting around my house, complaining about how boring it was?"  
  
"You knew we had duty today! We could have gone to see a movie or something!"  
  
She was on her feet in a heartbeat, and over at the glass. Her green eyes were on fire as she said, "It's not exactly like there are new releases, Malcolm. We've seen all the movies!"  
  
"We could have done anything! Took a walk, gone to the library, play a Ouija Board! We did not have to go out drinking!"  
  
"If you're tying to make me feel guilty, Malcolm, it won't work! You are as guilty as I am here. You could have left!"  
  
"You would have killed me!"  
  
"I'm still gonna kill you!"  
  
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" a voice shouted. They turned around to see one of the security guards at the door.  
  
"She started it," Reed muttered. He didn't miss the cold glare she gave him.  
  
"Lt. Forrest, you have a visitor," the guard said, ignoring the comment.  
  
"Who?" she asked.  
  
"Admiral Forrest."  
  
"Bloody hell," Reed said, moving to his bunk. "Good luck."  
  
The guard opened the door and ushered Mikayla down the hall. He lead her through a door to a private officer where the newly appointed Commanding Officer of Starfleet was waiting for her.  
  
"Hi dad."  
  
"Mikayla, sit down," he ordered.  
  
She did as he told, but said nothing. She had nothing to say to her father.  
  
"I do not appreciate getting a call at 8:00 in the morning to find out my daughter is in jail," he began.  
  
"They had no right to call you in the first place. I'm not a child anymore."  
  
"No, you're not a child. You're Lieutenant Mikayla Forrest. Someone like you should not end up in jail."  
  
"If you're going to lecture me…" she began, getting up. She had no intention of listening to her father.  
  
"Sit down, Lieutenant," he ordered.  
  
Mikayla sat, out of sheer obligation to her uniform. "What?"  
  
"You have an image to uphold. You're a Starfleet Lieutenant. You'll probably be one of the first Captains. We don't need another reason for the Vulcan's to hate us."  
  
"This wasn't my choice."  
  
"It's your duty. Now either you start acting like an adult or you'll be sitting in this brig for a very long time. And your friend in there…" Admiral Forrest pointed in the direction of Malcolm. "Stay away from him. He's trouble."  
  
"Dad…"  
  
"That's an order." 


	2. Times Long Ago

This story follows Malcolm Reed through his Starfleet Basic Training, his Officer Training, his first posting, and his career on Enterprise. Beware of a very long story ahead!  
  
I don't own any of these characters, with the exception of Mikayla. She's mine!  
  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
*Times Long Ago*  
  
Malcolm Reed sat in his cramped apartment and wallowed. He had the tendency to feel sorry for himself after a night on the town with Mikayla. Not because of what they did, but because of the way he always treated her. Like this morning. He knew it wasn't her fault they had ended up in jail, yet he couldn't help but blame her for it. That was his father coming out, he knew. Always find someone else to be the scapegoat, or you'll find yourself one.  
  
He thought back to even a few years ago, before he knew the irrepressible Mikayla Forrest. He had been miserable and lonely, serving in the Royal Navy. It had been his father's idea, and the young Malcolm had joined on his eighteenth birthday. The Navy held no joy for Malcolm, who wanted nothing to do with the Reed family history. His head really wasn't in the stars, either, but Starfleet was his only out.  
  
His father had all but disowned him when he joined the Fleet. It was Malcolm's mother that kept the family together. But then again, that's the way it always was. Mum would be there to pick up the pieces of their shattered life. He was grateful for his mother. She made living in that house almost pleasant.  
  
Malcolm and his sister had always been close, so she was the hardest for him to leave when he went off to San Francisco. He quelled the loneliness of missing his mum and sister by sleeping with as many women as would have him. He would never let them get close to him, though, for fear they would find out he was a fake. He didn't belong in Starfleet any more than he belonged in the Royal Navy.  
  
His roommate all through training saw him through the good times and the bad times of basic Starfleet training. Mark was the one who talked Malcolm into entering the officer training. "Starfleet needs a few good armory officers…and ya can't do that if you're a crewmen!" Malcolm had reluctantly agreed, mainly because he didn't want to face the real world of being a Starfleet Officer.  
  
Malcolm sat back in his chair and smiled at the memories. It was in Officer training that he met Mikayla. He had hated her the instant they met. Mark had dated her for years before they met. Yet in all those years, they had avoided meeting each other through pure happenstance. Six months after her and Mark had broken up, they struck a deal with each other. Mark would set up his best friend with Mikayla; and Mikayla would set up Mark with her best friend.  
  
The day the two met was still fresh in his mind. Malcolm had walked into the restaurant and instantly knew who she was. Her platinum blond hair stood out in the low florescent lighting, and her emerald eyes shined even in the dimness. She reminded him somewhat of a cat: sleek, intelligent, dangerous. He was drawn to her.  
  
Once Malcolm sat down, the two instantly found a common ground. They were both Armory Officers. She was training at the Starfleet Compound in Frisco as well. However, while he was trained in weapons and development, she was trained in tactics and maneuvers. She knew her weapons, but she was better at teaching a cadet what to do with them.  
  
He found her manner somewhat offensive, though. She said what was on her mind, and didn't care what anyone thought. He also didn't agree with a lot of her opinions. She felt that the Vulcan's had ever right to hold back information to a species that clearly wasn't ready for the technology. Malcolm was surprised to hear that her father was then Vice Admiral Robert Forrest. He expected any child of Forrest's to be a well mannered, up and coming Starfleet officer with a big grudge against the Vulcans.  
  
Malcolm mentioned to her, off handed, "You certainly don't live up to your father's reputation."  
  
Her emerald eyes glowed much like the did this morning in the jail cell: full of fire. "I am not my father."  
  
"I never said you were," Malcolm argued. "But I would have thought you'd be the model officer in training…"  
  
She rose from her chair slowly, her eyes still burning. "You know nothing about me," she hissed.  
  
With that, she walked out of the restaurant. It didn't bother Malcolm one bit, really. While she was beautiful and interesting to talk to, he didn't need a bitch in his life. Not at the moment. So with a shrug, he paid the bill and headed home to tell Mark that the date just didn't work out. He wouldn't be seeing Mikayla Forrest ever again.  
  
How wrong he was. After officer training, Malcolm was sent back to London and assigned to the Starfleet base there. It was at the London base that Starfleet was developing weapons and technology to protect their ships once they went out into space. Recently, they had been charged with the task of designing the weapons and other defenses of the newest class starship: the NX class, the first warp 5, long range cruiser. Malcolm was thrilled that he would be working on any part of the new ship.  
  
When he walked into the lab for the first time, he was amazed see Mikayla Forrest. It took a moment for him to realize that it would be the logical thing to do to assign her here. She was good at what she did, and if anyone could help a team of Armory Officers design defenses for a starship, she could.  
  
He had walked up to her slowly, not sure if she remembered him. Right away he noticed that two small pips on her collar bone. "Lt. Forrest?" he questioned, standing at attention.  
  
She turned around suddenly, startled by his inquiry. It took only a moment for her to recognize who he was. "Ensign Reed. Looks like you graduated. Congrats."  
  
"It's a pleasure to see you again, sir," he said lightly, moving away.  
  
Mikayla was around the desk in a heartbeat, moving towards Malcolm fast. The British man was shocked to see that she was wearing blue jeans with her formal uniform top. He was even more shocked when she hugged him.  
  
"Lieutenant?" he questioned.  
  
"You know my name is Mikayla," she teased, smirking.  
  
"Yes, Mikayla, of course, but…"  
  
She cut him off. "Call me Mike."  
  
"Mike…of course. But…your uniform? And…?"  
  
A grin broke out on her face, crinkling her eyes slightly. "I'm sorry about dinner that night, Malcolm. My father and I had just had a fight…it wasn't a pretty sight."  
  
"Ah," he said, still not understanding.  
  
"You're still wondering on the jeans, right?" she waited for him to nod. "Simple. I don't want to be in Starfleet, so I'm doing everything in my power to make sure Starfleet doesn't want me."  
  
It was his turn to grin. He knew exactly how she felt. It had happened so suddenly, but from that moment on, they were the best of friends. Shortly after he had been assigned she had started taking him to Max's Heaven. It wasn't long after that the entire Starfleet base, and half of London, knew them as "Mike and Mallie". They were inseparable. Admiral Forrest hated it.  
  
  
  
She heard the knock on the door, but ignored it. Whoever it was, they would go away. Mikayla was in no mood to speak to anyone right now. Malcolm had hurt her, blaming her for their predicament. He always seemed to do that, and she didn't know why. Hell, he would blame her if he got thrown in jail and she was sitting at home.  
  
Malcolm confused her. He wasn't like any other Brit she had met, and he certainly wasn't like any other officer she had met. She liked to think that she knew everything there was to know about Malcolm Reed, but she sometimes wondered. She didn't know why he acted like an ass half the time. He never talked about his father. And she saw what he was like with his girlfriends…they were lucky if they got his name before he kicked them out the door.  
  
The knocking on the front door was persistent. She sighed and got off the couch, knowing now that the person would never go away. It never failed, when she wanted to be alone, everyone and their cousin decided to visit.  
  
She swung open the door to find Malcolm standing on her stoop, a dozen yellow roses in his hand. He knew her well enough to know that yellow roses were her favorite.  
  
"Can I help you?" she joked.  
  
"I am so sorry for the way I acted this morning," he apologized, the grave look imbedded on his face.  
  
Mike ushered her inside and took the roses. "Don't worry about it. I know how you get."  
  
"I do worry about it, though," he whined, plopping down on the sofa.  
  
"You'll forget about it by tomorrow. You always do."  
  
Malcolm didn't respond. Instead, he kept staring at the ceiling, waiting for his best friend to come back from the kitchen. When she finally did, he asked, "What did your father say?"  
  
Once again, there was silence. He waited a few seconds before sitting up. Mike was perched on the edge of the chair, with her eyes closed.  
  
"Mike?"  
  
Taking a deep breath, she answered, "He has no intention of giving me a formal warning. And I had to convince him not to give you one. But I've been ordered by the C-in-C of Starfleet to stop seeing you."  
  
"Starfleet cannot guide our personal lives, unless it interferes with out duties…" his voice trailed off. "That's what he's gonna do. Claim that our friendship is interfering with our duties."  
  
"I don't care about myself," she whispered. "You have a very promising career…"  
  
"Do you think I care about this?" he shot back, sitting up. "All I care about is that I'm not at home with my father."  
  
The two lapsed into silence. The were both so much alike. Neither one of them really wanted to be wearing this uniform, yet neither one of them had the nerve to do what they wanted. In truth, neither one of them really knew what they wanted.  
  
"So what are we gonna do?" she asked.  
  
Malcolm looked over at her with resolve in his hazel eyes. "I say to hell with our fathers."  
  
Mikayla smiled. "Sounds like a good plan to me."  
  
**  
  
  
  
Yet more to come! 


End file.
